


Reunion

by Shigure_Natsu



Series: Post-canon Captive Prince [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Nikandros is so done, Post-Canon, Post-Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigure_Natsu/pseuds/Shigure_Natsu
Summary: Laurent and Damen finally meet again, if only for a few days.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaijuusAndKryptids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaijuusAndKryptids/gifts).



> Here's my participation for the Captive Prince Secret Santa 2016 ! This gift is for [KK](http://communistfireworks.tumblr.com/) who requested something canon compliant, with puppy-in-love!Damen and pining!Laurent. It just so happened that I started a post-canon series, and this fit right in ! I hope you like it ~  
> So this is a continuation to "Confessions", but you can read this without having read the first part really.
> 
> This has been beta'd by my wonderful friend [Salomé](http://spires-to-heaven.tumblr.com), thank you boo.
> 
> If any of you guys think I forgot to tag anything, or see any mistakes, don't hesitate to send me a comment !

Restless tapping fingers. The sound of footsteps growing louder in the corridor. Jumping to his feet, Laurent had the door opened before the person on the other side even had the time to knock on it, a name forming on his lips. And then he stopped.

“Jord.” It was pronounced with no small amount of disappointment, Laurent’s eyebrows drawing together in a scowl.

Jord held back a sigh. “Still no news, your Highness.”

“They were supposed to arrive before dinner. It’s nearly midnight. This doesn’t make sense.” Laurent turned back on his heels, pacing inside his room, stopping from time to time to rearrange the papers he had been gazing upon before Jord’s arrival, contracts he was using to take his mind off the fact that the delegation had yet to arrive. “And don’t call me that. How many times do I have to remind you not to call me that, Jord,” he said in a small voice, back facing the soldier.

Laurent was bent over his study, his shoulders slouched, as if the fight had suddenly been drained out of him. He took a deep breath. Then another. Willing himself to piece back his mind and hear reason once again. 

A door cricking. Jord had taken a step inside the chambers, hesitant and yet determined. He didn’t dare get closer, though. “The delay might be nothing, your Hi… Laurent. No one would dare to cross th…”

“I know that.” Laurent’s voice was cutting, hard as the steel of his sword, his tongue precise as the practiced movements of a learned soldier. And yet he couldn’t think. “I know that,” he said again, softer.

He was trying to clear his thoughts of the irrational worry, focusing on the logical reasons that could be behind the delay. And yet his mind was running in circles, determined to not give him even a single second of reprieve. 

With a sign of his hand, he dismissed Jord. The soldier opened his mouth, about to say something, but stopped. Thought for a minute. And then exited the room, muttering under his breath, running outside to send some scouts to search the area while Laurent was still trying to calm down.

He paced for a while, going from his study to his bed and from his bed to his study, until his legs were starting to ache and his hands were cramping from staying bundled up too long.

Then he let himself sit, the covers on his bed giving way as he lay onto them, a hand coming to his face. He massaged his temples, his eyes closing, his back slumping against the cushion. When he opened them again, they caught on the bottle of wine he had prepared for the occasion, laid out on the table with the diner he hadn’t dared to eat, his stomach churning every time he lay his eyes on the food.

For a moment, he considered just getting up, opening the bottle and drinking straight from it, until he passed out, until he couldn’t think again. For a moment only. Then he reminded himself he was Laurent, King of Vere and Acquitart, and soon to be consort ruler of Akielos. A small delay wasn’t going to make him drink until he passed out.

The golden glint of the cuff on his left wrist contrasted on his blue silk sheets, and he couldn’t stop a timid smile from blooming on his lips, thinking of all that had happened to bring him here. If they had survived until now, they would survive to see another day, and meet again. Of that he was sure.

 

*

 

A short knock. Laurent only understood he had fallen asleep when he arose, hair and clothes a mess alike, his candle burning low and a fist bumping against his door. Taking no time to straighten his appearance, he ran, opening the door and coming face to face with a guard ready to scream his name again.

“What is it?” He meant to look intimidating, venomous. But if the worry wasn’t showing on his face, it was evident in his voice, in the way he was waiting for the soldier to talk. To say something, anything.

“They’re here, your Highness.”

His mind went blank. Instead of running down the stairs like he thought he would, he stood there, unmoving, barely breathing. Then he snapped back. Schooled his expression, grabbed his coat, put his circlet on and smoothed his hair and clothes down, giving himself a once-over in the mirror before joining the man.

“I trust everybody is in their rightful place and everything is set to welcome them as planned.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

The tension was palpable, heels clicking on the carpeted floor while they descended towards the courtyard, Laurent surreptitiously clenching his hands behind his back, his jaw working in an uncomfortable motion. Until, finally, they were outside.

The courtyard was buzzing with activity, Laurent’s staff everywhere, the Akielon delegation drowned under the weight of the attention they were getting. Looking for a familiar face, he first spotted Nikandros, heading straight for him.

“What happened?”

With a snicker, the Kyros approached. “I can see you’re as pleasing as ever, your Highness.”

All he got was a thunderous glare in response, to which he gave a small smile. Then, seriousness took over his face, and Nikandros sighed, looking Laurent straight in the eye. “One of the chariot’s wheel came apart on the road. We had to fix it. I would’ve sent a messenger, but Damen said it was no use, seeing how close we were already.” With a smirk, he added: “Did you worry?”

Another glare. Laurent scanned the crowd once again, in vain. He furrowed his brow, his right fingers coming to discreetly brush against his golden cuff. “Where is he?”

With a shrug, Nikandros took a look of his own at the people running around the courtyard. He, too, didn’t manage to find Damianos. “Well, that’s actually a very good question,” the Kyros said. “He’s supposed to be right over there. I have no idea where he bolted to.”

Anger twisted in Laurent’s gut. He’d been turning and tossing day and night out of worry, and Damen didn’t even have the decency to be there to greet him. With a sign of his head, Laurent indicated to one of his advisor to take care of the delegation. He needed time to himself.

Something wasn’t right. When he stepped in his rooms, the air had changed, heavier, a foreign scent hanging. A book was laid on his study, between the contracts and records. He went for it.

The cover was worn, a deep brown leather with an Akielon title reading « Myths and Legends ». When he opened it, he noticed the grease staining some of the pages, the streaks of pencil or dust in between the letters. He concealed a smile.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t an attacker. You let your guard down.”

The deep voice sent shivers running down Laurent’s spine, and as he turned around, catching sight of Damen leaning against the door-frame, he had to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. Nothing read on his face though, only his palms got a little sweaty, his cheeks coloring just the slightest bit. He rose to the challenge, a laugh in his voice: “And you’re lucky I knew who you were. You’d be dead, otherwise.”

One, two, three strides. Damen had crossed the distance between them, enveloping Laurent in his warmth, burying his face in the crook of his neck, one of his hands in the golden locks, the other around Laurent’s thin waist, a sigh on his slips. “I missed you.”

His heart in his throat, Laurent didn’t dare to utter a reply, knowing he couldn’t control what would come out of his mouth right now. Instead, he returned Damen’s hug with all his might. They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped up in each other’s arms, a silent exchange of emotions, their breaths mingling, their fingers barely ghosting across the other’s skin, pale hands grazing dark scars, dark palms clenching around pale arms.

Finally, Damen broke the silence, uttered words catching in the air: “Sorry about the delay.”

At that, Laurent huffed, drawing back to really look his lover in the eyes. At least Damen did look contrite. Maybe he needn’t be so mad at him. He wanted to, though. Wanted to take a small revenge for making him worry so much. It would be petty, but oh so sweet. 

“We should head back downstairs,” Laurent said, completely detaching himself from Damen. “Nikandros is probably searching for you right now.”

“He’d have figured it out by now. He’s not that stupid,” Damen crooned, getting closer to Laurent’s back, fingers following the patterns of the laced up clothing he wore, gaze searching.

“Isn’t he now?” Laurent snickered, but the smile on his lips soothed the venom in his words. 

“I’d much rather stay here with you. Talk. We haven’t talked in so long.”

The idea of staying huddled up in his rooms, talking endlessly with Damen, was so appealing Laurent nearly forgot all about his revenge idea. He started to nod. Stopped himself and turned around, pushing Damen away with a hand on his heart, his face still showing he was clearly playing the King of Akielos. “We’re going back downstairs, Damianos.”

The use of the name was all it took for Damen to hang his head low, replacing his sigh with a smile, knowing he had lost this part of the game.

As it turned out, going downstairs was the worst of ideas. Nikandros and Jord, as well as half of Laurent’s and Damen’s court, were waiting for them in a not so eager fashion. After a welcome worthy of the king of another country, Damen and the rest of his delegation were escorted to their chambers, and Laurent was made to go back to his own rooms, on the opposite side of the castle of Arles. 

 

*

 

The next morning found Damen head deep in some treaties, his and Laurent’s advisors having come to him before he was even properly dressed. He had breakfast over a mountain of papers, and was currently still debating whether to throw them in the fire or tear them into little pieces.

He was strongly leaning towards the second option, a hand supporting his head and his finger tapping out an Akielon melody when the doors burst open, Nikandros coming into the study with a sour face, even though he did bow his head to the King upon entrance. Damen was on his feet in an instant, all thoughts about treaties forgotten. “What happened?”

Nikandros took a few seconds to draw in a deep breath, closing his eyes and balling his fists. When he opened his eyelids, Damen wasn’t sure whether he was having fun or was angry as never before. “Your princeling is at it again,” Nikandros said. 

A sigh. Damen sat back, the chair tipping under his weight. “Don’t call him that. He’s a king now. You’re supposed to show him some respect. I’m sure you know that, Nik.”

“Would you rather I call him a venomous snake then, Exalted?” Nikandros said with a smirk.

“Now you’re just being a dick. What has he done?”

Nikandros’s seriousness was back almost immediately, and he gestured for Damen to follow him. “Let me just show you. It’ll be easier that way.”

The staircases. The hall. The courtyard. The outskirts of the castle. The training area. They stopped there, hearing the grunts of Akielon men fighting, and a voice, above those grunts, giving out instructions with an accented voice, calm but commanding. The sight that greeted Damen once he got around the wall was the one he was expecting, and yet it wasn’t it. Laurent was conducting practice, swiftly walking between the duos of soldiers, correcting a stance, analyzing a strike. But he wasn’t clad in his usual all blue laced up suit. Instead, he had simple riding breeches and an ample white shirt, opened in the front so that it showed his neck and his collarbones. Damen swallowed.

“Apparently, he thought we were being too lax with our men,” Nikandros commented at his side, oblivious, or at least trying to be, to his friend’s struggle. 

Damen nodded, his voice gone. They watched for a few moments more, until the King of Vere himself decided to take part in the training. Nikandros tried to intervene, but Damen put a hand on his forearm, eager to see what would happen, his eyes fixed on Laurent, and only Laurent. 

It was a simple sparring lesson, and yet, once Laurent was involved, it became a spectacle. An elaborate dance of parrying one blow, inflicting another, dodging a strike and making the other retreat. All the while, Laurent moved as if it were second nature, graceful and deadly. Pallas, if an expert soldier who managed to fend off more than one of the attacks, clearly didn’t measure up to his opponent. Laurent even managed to comment on his and Pallas’s actions while fencing, a little smirk on his face. 

The combat stopped when one of them marked five blows. The Akielons cheered on Laurent, and, after a moment had passed, the one-time instructor shut them all up with a remark probably intended to be icy, but came out much fonder. The soldiers resumed their training.

Finally, he turned to Damen and Nikandros, raising his head, giving a small nod as a salute. Damen nodded back, surprised by the sudden stiffness in his lover’s back, and the rising color on his cheeks. It could’ve been the exhaustion, but, even though he was pale, such an exercise wouldn’t bring that much red to Laurent’s face. 

“You’re doing good.” Damen mouthed the words, only for Laurent to see. The King of Vere’s gaze lingered on him, and then a smile bloomed on his lips. It was as smug as it was genuinely happy, and Damen quivered.

Nikandros’s breath caught in his throat, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. Some soldiers stopped sparring, Pallas smirking when he noticed Laurent’s expression, but some soldiers cowering behind him, ready for the demon to unleash. Damen’s heart, however, was slowly filling with warmth, enveloping his body in happiness and love. He was pretty sure that if Nikandros wasn’t otherwise occupied having a minor seizure, he would be scolding him for the look he was most likely sporting right now. Damen didn’t care.

 

*

 

“Now what was that all about?”Damen had joined Laurent on the side of the training pit, once the soldiers had drained out and the sun was approaching its peak. Nikandros had left with them, muttering all the while. They were both sat on the stony steps, side by side, looking off into the distance.

“I noticed your men slacking off,” Laurent said matter-of-factly. “And I was bored from waiting on you.”

Damen couldn’t help but laugh at the reply. It had been so long since they were last able to banter that way. Their vacation at the summer palace had been months ago, and they’d both been heavily preoccupied with the administration of their kingdoms, and the planning for the reconstruction of Marlas, and with it, the wedding. They’d exchanged letters, but they were so formal, Laurent being used to concealing his feelings with words but unable now to truly hide them in his body language in front of Damen, and Damen never truly knowing what to expect, what to answer. 

“I’m much more curious about your gift, actually.” Laurent’s voice was light, but behind it hung the weight of all his expectations, of all his quiet reminiscing, all of the stories he made up in his head when he saw the stains and smudges on the pages.

A hand going to curl into his hair as he worried his lips, Damen gathered his thoughts, and replied: “I … it was one of my mother’s books. The servants used to read it to us a lot, when Kastor and I were both children. As I grew up, I kept coming back to it from time to time, and it never left my library. I wanted to give it to you. I thought you’d appreciate it.” Damen’s nerves filled the air. Laurent’s heartbeat was ringing in his ears, the silence echoing with the importance of what Damen had just admitted, of how meaningful this gift was.

“I also thought it might improve your Akielon.” False lightness and wobbling smile. It felt like a knife to Laurent’s heart. Damen was usually so confident, so calm and gentle, and yet this simple present was making him nervous. 

Laurent reached for his hand, threaded their fingers together, clumsily trying to convey comfort through the contact, holding Damen’s gaze. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”

Damen’s shoulders slumped at the words, and he let himself go slowly against Laurent with a sigh, giving time to his lover to back away if he wanted. But Laurent didn’t move. He even started brushing his free hand into Damen’s dark strands humming a soft tune. Safe and sound, Damen fell asleep. 

 

*

 

He was nudged to consciousness an hour later, startling up. In his sleep, Laurent had moved him so his head rested on his lap, making it more comfortable for the both of them. Still Laurent flustered when the King of Akielos smiled at him, and Damen could notice the color spreading, a stark contrast against his white shirt. 

“We should head back.”

Laurent nodded, and got to his feet, shaking off invisible dust from his clothes, a bit weak in the knees from sitting for so long. 

The castle was bubbling with activity, as was to be expected. Everyone stopped, however, to greet the kings properly, bows and respectful names following one after the other. It took them several minutes to finally reach the threshold. There, Laurent bid Damen goodbye, saying he would meet him again at dinner, and bolting to his room, leaving a startled Damen in his wake.

Once he was locked up in his chambers, having warned Jord he was not to be disturbed, he went for the gift, a careful hand revering the cover until he finally felt confident enough to open it. He started reading, his mind stumbling on some of the words. But he never stopped. All the while, he pictured a rounded faced Damen, tucked in bed close to Kastor – he cringed, thinking of the name – listening to someone reading those same tales, knowing this book was dearly beloved by his mother.

He only noticed he was crying when a drop came to rest on one of the pages, next to a dark smudge. Surprised, his hand came to his face to wipe away the tears, dabbing the edge of his shirt against his eyes until all moisture had disappeared, until he was finally able to concentrate again. 

Stories about old queens and fantastical creatures, about betrayal and epic quests and fearless warriors. The names were different, but the substance was similar to what he himself was told as a kid. To the legends Auguste would recount in multiple voices, a smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes. 

Laurent found himself enjoying the book far more than he would have any other work, only surfacing from between the pages when a guard warned him that dinner would be served soon. He dressed up, knotted his lace, tamed his hair, put on his crown and his neutral mask. And he got downstairs. 

The banquet room was already filled to the brim with people when he entered the room, staff waltzing between tables with an efficiency revealing of years of work. Everything seemed to slow down, however, once they caught sight of him, conversation subsiding into murmurs, laughter dying. This didn’t stop Damen from rising up to greet him, clad in red and gold for the occasion.

He led Laurent to his chair, right beside him, with a small smile and fingers rapidly brushing against his cuff, as if to soothe him. With a silent thank you, Laurent turned to the crowd, and, with an eloquent gesture, ordered for the meal to begin.

 

*

 

He had drunk far more wine that he intended. Damen was comfortably tipsy, his head slightly bobbing to the music, his gaze fondly turned on Laurent bantering with Nikandros over nothing, a smile on his lips. This. This was what he wanted. Warm evenings with the people he cherished most, a nice meal in front of him, a cozy bed waiting in his chambers.

A call on his right. He had to drag his head from the scene he was enjoying, only to have to listen to some old council man talking to him about policies he couldn’t care less about at the moment. He still tried his best to comprehend the words, but only managed to tell the man to come to him with his grievances tomorrow, so that he could work on the case properly. Thankfully, the man nodded, and left him alone.

When he went back to his watching activities, he crossed Laurent’s gaze. The icy eyes were trained on him, a question in their depths. Damen shook his head with a smile. Nothing of importance. Nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. Right now, they were having fun.

When the banquet finally drew to an end, Damen and Laurent managed to sneak out, Damen giggling lightly, one of his hands wrapped around Laurent’s cuffed wrist, who was following with a smile of his own, trying to match his lover’s pace, their hurried footsteps echoing across the halls of the castle in a clattering melody.

Damen didn’t really know when Laurent took the lead, but they stumbled into the King of Vere’s room still laughing. Damen froze, looking Laurent in the face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes from too little sleep, the disheveled hair from trying to rearrange his bangs all night long, the slightly opened lace at his neck from the hot banquet room.

He bent down, ever so slowly, until his lips were on Laurent’s and they were sharing a passionate kiss, Laurent’s hands coming to grip his biceps, his resting on the small of Laurent’s back, restraining himself from touching him any further. Not until he asked.

They stumbled onto the bed together, Damen holding in another fit of giggles, the alcohol wearing off but his own joy not receding one bit. A kiss. Then another. They were both on their sides, gazing into each other’s eyes, sharing lazy pecks, hands trailing on clothes lightly. Then Laurent snuck his under Damen’s shirt, fingers coming to brush the long gashes decorating his back in a familiar motion, a sour expression on his face.

“Stop berating yourself.”

Laurent’s expression only mildly softened, and he kept running his fingertips on the scars, seemingly intent on soothing every single one of them. Damen led a kiss onto his lover’s forehead. “We talked about this already. And I forgave you already.”

“I know,” Laurent said. And yet he kept going, idle patterns on Damen’s back, brow furrowed in concentration or anger at himself, Damen didn’t know.

“You can’t keep doing that every time you’re about to see me naked though. It will get burdensome, once we are married.”

That, at least, managed to shake Laurent out of his sour mood. His gaze immediately went up to Damen’s, eyes widening, a blush creeping on his cheeks. Damen smiled softly at him, and pecked him once again on the lips, detaching Laurent’s hands from his molested back with a tug on his arm. 

“I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that in a few months, you will be my rightful husband.” The admission rang softly into the air, Laurent not quite meeting Damen’s eyes anymore.

“And yet you were the one who proposed.” Damen tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke, but it fell right off, only furthering Laurent’s retreat on himself, his knees bulking up, his hands clenching the sheets. “Sorry,” Damen said, immediately noticing the change in Laurent’s demeanor. “I’m nervous too, if it’s of any consolation to you.”

Tension eased off Laurent’s shoulders, and he even tried to smile, nodding. Then the bittersweet answer followed: “Of course you are. After all, you are marrying me. You know I’m a handful.”

“The most eloquent, most handsome, most intelligent and truest handful both our kingdoms have ever seen. Besides, I got two hands. I’ll manage.” With another smile and words as delicate as possible, he added: “I love you. I’m glad I’m marrying you.” His palm came to rest on Laurent’s hand between them, giving it a squeeze.

His lover replied by threading their fingers together, a shy smile grazing his lips. He rested his face on Damen’s chest, quiet murmur echoing into the night. “I’m glad, too.”

They stayed like that for a while, listening to the other breathing, hands clasped. Damen was nearly asleep when he felt the pressure of Laurent’s other palm increasing against his torso. He opened his eyes, finally coming to the understanding that Laurent was unpinning his clothes. He froze. Then let himself relax under his lover’s touch, eyes tenderly observing the King of Vere as he worked. 

When Laurent had finally got rid of the layers covering Damen, he started on his own clothing, unlacing his sleeves with precise motions, making quick work of one, and then the other. Turning his back on Damen, he got a hold of the hair at his neck and pushed it away, giving just a quick glance to Damen. “Help me with these?”

The uncertainty filling the question made Damen’s heart quicken. Laurent wasn’t ordering him around. He was offering himself, soft and vulnerable, putting his well-being fully into his lover’s hands. Trusting. Damen felt his throat close up. 

He started unthreading the lace gently, fingers trembling, trying to focus on his own uneven breathing instead of the pale skin his hands were slowly revealing. When all of the garment’s back was finally free, Laurent tugged on it, letting it fall to the floor. Then he stopped moving.

Damen went to kiss his left shoulder, careful and soft. He could feel the tension under his lips, the muscles taut, ready to spring. It filled the air. Letting his forehead hang against his lover’s body, he asked: “What is it? Tell me how you feel.”

It seemed like ages before Laurent’s words came out. “I want you. But I’m scared that I do.”

With a gesture as gentle as he could muster, Damen turned Laurent’s face until he was looking at him again. “It’s okay to want, Laurent. To want me, especially. You know I would never deny you anything.”

“Of that I’m scared, too.” Laurent’s voice was so small, Damen had to strain to hear it, even this close. “You give yourself so fully,” Laurent said, trying to find his composure back. “And you get only me in return. Bruised, beaten, broken. You deserve better.”

Damen joined Laurent at the edge of the bed, their legs hanging close, their feet brushing from time to time. Damen picked Laurent’s hand back up, kissed each and every one of his knuckles with reverence, never letting his eyes stray away from Laurent’s own gaze. When he was finished with one hand, he went on to the other, a vow in each brush of his lips against his lover’s skin. “I’m getting exactly what I want,” he said after a while. “I’m getting peace between our two kingdoms. I’m getting you.”

Laurent was shaking his head from side to side, still not quite believing that Damen was real. Then he let himself slump in the other’s arms, the warmth enveloping him until his insecurities fled, and desire was born anew. Laurent got off the bed, surprising Damen, and got rid of his undershirt, his boots, and then his pants, muttering a curse when some laces got tangled and he had to spend a full minute working on them, until finally everything came loose. They were both naked, then.

Damen was watching him, lounging on the plump pillows, observing his every move with sharp eyes, his own yearning growing with each piece of clothing that was shed, each glance Laurent poised on him. He was starting to tremble with the strain of forcing himself not to move, to just wait until Laurent came to him, when, finally, his lover did. He climbed on the bed, trying to look ravenous but still somewhat unsure of his steps, and joined Damen on the covers, immediately diving in for a kiss.

Straddling Damen’s lap, Laurent kissed and kissed and kissed, hands navigating between Damen’s shoulders and his hair, until he himself felt dizzy for air. So he stopped. Looked at his lover. The King of Akielos had his pupils blown wide, his lips bruised by their previous activity, dark locks stuck to his forehead, gaze unfocused and breath uneven. And that was just from Laurent kissing him.

Feeling emboldened, Laurent let his lips wander, kissing Damen’s cheeks, nose, throat. Hearing Damen’s intake of air when his mouth grazed on the tender flesh of his neck, Laurent paused, and then started nibbling there, until he managed to get a moan out of his lover, pleased. He went on, kissing a collarbone, grazing a nipple, worshipping abs, his heart rabbiting in his own chest as he went lower, and lower, and lower.

A hand in his hair, not quite tugging. Stopping him. He looked up at Damen, who had never before looked so wrecked, so close to losing it. This, too, made Laurent quiver. He felt both hot and cold, shivers running through him but his determination going strong, want coursing through his veins.

“You don’t have to.” Damen’s voice was as broken as his face looked. Laurent’s gut twisted. He knew that. He also knew that Damen’s words were only for his sake. Were only the result of his immense love and unbound respect for him. Somehow, it still felt like rejection.

Laurent shook his head, trying to clear it from the confusion rising in his mind, to only focus on his pleasure. His and Damen’s. “I want to.”

Damen had no time to protest before Laurent’s lips were on him once again. He wouldn’t have, anyway. This was Laurent’s decision, and only his. With another wretched moan, Damen clung to the cushions on either side of his head, cursing so much it soon covered the sounds of what they were doing, Akielon words flying from his mouth in incoherent stutters, mixed with praise for his lover, and, of course, Laurent’s name. 

“Okay, okay,” Damen said, taking advantage from Laurent pausing only for an instant to try and get his breathing back under control. Another fit of cursing. Laurent smirked, giving Damen the naughtiest gaze he had seen from him so far in bed, tremendously enjoying himself, getting off more from the fact that he was making Damen writhe underneath him than from the act in itself. 

“Gods, you’re going to be the death of me.” Damen arched off the bed in response to Laurent’s ministrations, who chuckled, coming back up to kiss his lover on the lips.

“And we are only getting started.” As much as he meant the teasing, Laurent couldn’t help the blush running high on his cheeks. He ignored it, though, in favor of letting his hands wander up and down his lover’s body, watching, mesmerized, as the pressure of his fingertips left quickly fading welts on the dark skin. 

His mouth coming to rest on Laurent’s collarbone, Damen, half kissing, half moaning, was struggling for control. It had been so long since he last was able to have Laurent like that, to worship him as he pleased, but right now he wasn’t even able to concentrate on his lover’s face. Everything felt so acute, so intense, Laurent acting so empowered, so daring Damen couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “I need you.”

The begging reached Laurent’s ear, heat flaring up in all of his body. He didn’t need to be told twice. It was hard, preparing himself thoroughly without Damen’s help. But the King of Akielos was so taken aback, seeing his lover like that, taking initiative and apparently tremendously enjoying himself, that Damen’s jaw fell open and his pupils went wider. Laurent was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Damen didn’t know if seconds, minutes or hours had passed, only focused on the lithe silhouette in front of him and the way it glowed into the night, the light illuminating the arched back, playing hide and seek with Laurent’s golden locks. When finally, Laurent pushed him back on the cushions and started making love to him, it was all Damen could do to keep air coming into his lungs. He still felt lightheaded, just thinking that Laurent was riding him right now.

And as Damen was trying to hold on for dear life, Laurent was spiraling between the raw feeling of the adrenaline coursing through his veins from so much power over his lover, the pleasure shaking all of his body, and the slight panic, if easy to suppress, induced by all these combined elements.

Moans and silent huffs were reverberating onto the walls, coming almost exclusively from Damen. Noticing this, he reached for Laurent, his hand coming to stroke one sweaty cheek with a fond expression. Laurent’s movements slowed down as he tried to focus on Damen, placing a kiss to the outstretched palm.

“Let go,” Damen said, his voice barely a whisper.

So Laurent tried. And Laurent did. Soon, both of their groans filled the room, Laurent letting out higher pitched cries from time to time, each one punctuated with small praises from Damen, inarticulate congratulations followed by chanting of Laurent’s name. It only served to make him more unbridled, jerking forward to rest his forehead onto Damen’s chest, breathing heavily, movements faltering once again as his sore muscles began giving underneath him. 

“I got you. I got you.”

Laurent chuckled softly, planting a kiss on Damen’s pecs and then on his lips, tired but his eyes still sparkling with mirth. So Damen, a question in his own eyes, took over. He splayed his fingers on Laurent’s hips, gripping strong enough to be able to move him, but light enough not to bruise his fine skin. He arched his own body, trying to set back the rhythm they had before, until Laurent was gasping once again, gripping on his shoulders. Only a few seconds more, and they both collapsed into each other, spent.

Damen was kissing Laurent’s hair, his body aching but his mind at ease.

“Thank you,” Laurent said, eyes closed.

“No. Thank you. For trusting me. For trusting yourself. I know this was a lot for you.”

“Stop treating me like I am going to break, Damianos.”

Laurent was trying to admonish him but his voice had no bite, and Damen just softly hummed. He was about to pull the covers over them when Laurent got up, legs wobbling and nearly giving away. He caught himself on one of the tables, laughing at his own state, and reassured Damen with a gesture. Then he headed towards the far end of the room, took a cloth, dipped it into the water basin, and came back. He first wiped himself, then Damen, careful, eyes never quite meeting his lover’s. Laurent tried to get back up, to go and put the cloth back, but Damen grazed his arm with one hand, stopping him. “Come back to bed. This can wait.”

With a roll of his eyes and a disgusted expression, Laurent let the cloth fall amongst their own garments, and slipped under the covers, Damen’s warmth enveloping him until he fell asleep, soothed. 

 

*

 

Laurent woke up to the smell of food and the sound of plates clattering. Damen was at the table, going over some parchment while pushing the dishes around to fit in a way only he knew about. “I had it brought up. I hope you don’t mind,” he said when he noticed Laurent watching him.

Laurent groaned, and collapsed back into bed, stretching on the silk with another grunt, working the aches out of his body until he felt able to walk once again. He got up, pulling the covers with him, earning himself a soft smile from across the room as he made his way to the cupboard and picked a shirt and pants to wear. He slipped them on quickly, just threading the lace of his trousers enough for them not to fall when he took a step, one of his shoulders hanging out of the collar of his rumpled shirt. It was so inherently adorable, with his eyes unable to quite focus and his hair still a joyous mess, that Damen had a hard time stifling a laugh.

Laurent joined him at the table and let himself fall gracelessly into the chair, displaying just enough control not to make a sound when he did, his arms coming to rest on either side of him as he eyed Damen with a smile of his own.

“Slept well?”

The King of Vere just hummed in response, analyzing the plates arranged on the table until he found something to his liking, and started eating. He noticed Damen had gotten back to his paper, whatever it was, fingers idly running across the dishes to try and pick something to eat, but never actually doing so. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow, observed his lover’s actions a while more, and then got up, taking his chair, and then his plates with him, under Damen’s scrutinizing stare. He sat back down next to him and shrugged. “You don’t look like you’re able to eat and read at the same time – not that I am surprised – so I’m going to help you with that.”

Damen choked on air. The last time Laurent had fed him was years ago, them not even being friends at that point, and he could still remember it so vividly it was as if it only happened the day before. So to have him say something like this, and meaning it, if the blush on his cheeks was any indication to how sincere he was, felt like his heart would beat out of his chest.

So Laurent picked grape, and brought it to Damen’s mouth, indicating him with a gesture to keep reading. But with the fruit reaching his lips, and Laurent’s fingers so close, the King of Akielos couldn’t concentrate anymore. He tried, but the words were jumbling in his head, maelstrom of “Laurent” and “feeding”, “grape” and “fingers” unending.

Damen swallowed. Took a deep breath. Focused once again on the report. Got distracted once again by his lover bringing up something for him to eat. Sighed. And gave up.

He turned to Laurent, warm gaze meeting intense eyes, opened his mouth and took another bite, lips grazing against juicy fingers. Laurent withdrew. He kept the food coming, breaking eye contact with Damen only to watch the fruits disappear into his mouth, to observe his fingertips fluttering against plump lips.

The door opened, letting both Nikandros and Jord in, startling Laurent and Damen, though they didn’t move away from each other. The Kyros groaned, shielding his eyes. “I knew I should’ve knocked again.”

“Well why didn’t you?” Laurent said, icy reply and burning stare. 

Nikandros didn’t answer, but what he had said was slowly making its way to the Kind of Vere’s head. The realization that they had both been too distracted to hear the rattles at the door made him startle, but he still narrowed his eyes at his own soldier. 

“At least they aren’t naked,” Jord said. He was watching the scene, bemused, his eyes going from the couple to Nikandros, and back to Damen and Laurent, who was wiping his fingers clean with a stern look.

“What is it?” The King of Vere took matters into his hands, Damen still too shocked to reply.

Nikandros finally let his arm down, and started talking. “Damen is needed downstairs. Someone from the council said something about having to discuss with him a problem they raised last night.” The King of Akielos cursed under his breath. Then he got up, let his hand softly brush against Laurent’s, and left the chambers with Nikandros, leaving Jord to stare silently at his King.

“Anything to say?” 

“Nothing, Your Highness. I’m just glad to see you’re happy.”

Laurent’s cheek colored, but still he held his ground, an acerb reply on his lips that came out far fonder than it should have. “I already told you not to call me that. Now get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jord replied playfully. Dismissed, the soldier closed the doors behind him, not without a chuckle and a smile for Laurent.

 

*

 

“You are leaving already.” It wasn’t a question, but the words still hung thick in the air on Laurent’s balcony. Damen was at his side, watching over the gardens, and, further, the road he would soon take to go back to his own kingdom.

“You know I have to.”

“I do. It does not make it any easier.”

“We’ll see each other soon enough. Only a few months and we’ll meet again, this time at Marlas.”

The idea of the marriage had Laurent both plunge into a fit of panic and soar through a cloud of happiness. This was it. He was allowed to have this. He made this for himself, and he wouldn’t let his own mind play tricks on him to convince him he didn’t deserve it. “It will still be too long without you.”

A murmur. Damen still heard, since he was inching closer to Laurent, putting one arm around his shoulders, kissing his temple, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Making the King of Vere feel loved and cherished and at peace. 

“We can still write.” Damen was trying his best to lighten the mood, but he himself felt as if his heart were torn apart, especially when he looked at Laurent. Laurent who tried to keep a stoic front, but whose eyes and words betrayed him. Probably because he wasn’t really trying to hide this. Not from Damen, at least.

“It’s not the same, you know it’s not,” Laurent said, turning until he was facing the inside of his chambers, worrying his lip.

So Damen came in front of him, one knee on the ground, grasping Laurent’s hands into his, the stark contrast getting a smile out of him. “It will have to be enough for now. And then we’ll be together as much as we want to. I promise I’ll never leave your side ever again.”

Laurent’s eyes blew wide, but he managed to stop his gesture to free himself of Damen’s grip, instead replying with panic in his voice, his head turning, the eye contact making him weak in the knees. “You can’t promise that. And you shouldn’t. You and I both will have missions, events to attend, we won’t be able to…”

Getting up, Damen stopped Laurent’s babbling and placed a small peck on his lips, effectively shutting him up. “We’ll do whatever we want to. And I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Laurent felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, and forced them back down. He sniffed, however, cleared his throat, and then went to hug Damen, a silent thank you for what he was doing. For what he had done, and would keep doing. He wanted to reply “I’ll give you everything”, but he couldn’t, his throat too closed up around itself, his own thoughts note quite clear. 

In the courtyard, the whole Akielon delegation was waiting, Nikandros giving orders away to finish the last of the preparations before the departure. Pallas was talking with Lazar, somewhere in the back, exchanging fleeting whispers, their foreheads touching. Vannes had come down for a last goodbye, and everywhere well wishes flew. Laurent thought to a few years back. He would never have imagined this, then. He would never even have guessed that someday, there would be peace, and that he would be alive to see it.

“Are you ready, Exalted?” The question, directed towards Damen, took Laurent out of his reminiscing. The King of Akielos nodded. Then he turned back to Laurent, squeezed his hand one last time with a sad smile. Feeling emboldened suddenly, Laurent pushed on his toes, and kissed Damen. If his lover looked taken aback, it was nothing compared to the lot of people gathered around them, most of them staring still, some of the staff members having stopped in their tracks. Nikandros, though, was just glaring at them, probably cursing Laurent for the delay. But since they arrived late, he was allowed to hold up Damen for a bit more. At least that’s what he told himself. 

With a small laugh, Damen replied to the sudden kiss with another one, hugged Laurent, and finally, slowly, let go. Laurent tried to stop his heart from breaking a little when Damen withdrew, his warmth leaving with him, to no avail. His only consolation was that in a few months’ time, they would hopefully be happily married, and living together at Marlas. And as Damen had said, they would never leave each other’s side anymore.

So he watched, as the chariots went on, as The King of Akielos passed him, perched on his war horse, his Kyros and best friend at his side. He kept watching, as the last of the delegation disappeared and the courtyard slowly emptied himself, the staff resuming their previous activities.

“Goodbye, Damianos.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://kiseopingu.tumblr.com) !


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